God Rest Ye Merry Spinster

by Rebecca Connolly

  Emma rose gracefully, moving to open space to sway her suddenly fussing daughter. “Elinor, only moments before they entered the kitchen, Edmund says they spoke nothing but praise of the Spinsters, and of you in particular.”

  The walls crumbled and Elinor could only exhale a pained breath. “And Joan?” she asked, swallowing hard. “Edmund said he couldn’t wait to tell Joan.”

  Emma smiled more broadly than she had yet. “He did tell Joan last night. He told her how violently Hugh had once felt against the Spinsters, and how he had changed since. Hugh said he didn’t care, because he doesn’t need anyone to understand why he feels the way he does now. He doesn’t mind if the whole story comes out, because he is a different man now, and anyone could see that.” Emma paused, then added, “And everyone does.”

  Elinor groaned and leaned forward, putting her face in her hands. How could she have been so foolish? She was smarter than this, wiser than to leap to extremes, and yet…

  “I don’t know what to believe,” she whimpered, shaking her head. “I don’t…”

  “Edmund is a great many things,” Emma interrupted, “but he is no liar. Never has been.”

  There was no arguing with that. Her brother was honest to a fault and was well known in the family for it. And he was also fiercely loyal to his sisters, which she had somehow forgotten the day before in all the mess of things.

  If Hugh hadn’t been raging against the Spinsters, somehow plotting a long-term strategy for their ruin, then he must have been true to the image he had given her of himself on this trip. That he was changed, that he was not the man he had been, that he admired her, and them, and…

  And that he really was the man she loved.

  “Oh, Emma,” Elinor breathed, sliding her hands from her face to her mouth. “I should have known; I should have seen…” She shook her head and glanced at her older sister. “What did he do last evening?”

  Emma smiled again, this time with sadness. “Well, he was rather downcast, but he was quite polite. He danced with Mama again, and she adored it. And he was so good with Ellen. You know how she can get ignored in our family parties, and it does rankle her so. Hugh was wonderful, and Ellen smiled the entire night.”

  Elinor grinned as she imagined the evening, her eyes burning with tears of joy and shame. “He would,” she whispered. “He is very aware of the vulnerable ones. He even played with the children in the library the other day, and they adored him so.”

  She wiped away a stray tear that had fallen and shook her head.

  “What?” Emma pressed. “Why shake your head?”

  “I’ve ruined everything,” Elinor said, her voice hitching in despair. “He’ll never forgive me, not after I said I believed in his change, then went back on it.”

  Emma tsked in a motherly tone. “Do you really think a man who has worked so hard to redeem himself and to earn forgiveness would withhold it from others? If you think him so hypocritical, you don’t deserve to love him.”

  The words sounded harsh, but Emma’s voice lent them a softness that left only truth.

  Truth.

  Elinor did believe him. She did forgive him. She did love him.

  And she needed to tell him. Now. Before all truly was ruined.

  She was out of her chair in a moment. “I need to go, Em,” she told her sister in a rush as she moved to the door.

  “I thought you might,” came the amused reply.

  Elinor smiled to herself as she dashed down the corridor and down the stairs, knowing there was at least one other person who would be awake, and able to help her now. She had ordered Hugh to leave as soon as possible, and she had to know if any preparations had been made.

  She hurried towards the study and exhaled in relief when the door was propped open, light within shining through the crack.

  She knocked softly, but firmly, on the door.

  “Come,” her father’s jolly voice called, missing the booming aspect it normally carried.

  Elinor wouldn’t think anything of that. It was, after all, still early in the morning, only just after sunrise.

  She pushed the door open. “Papa?”

  Her father was fairly casually dressed, sitting not behind his desk, but in his large and comfortable chair, a large book open in his lap. He smiled warmly as she entered.

  “Elinor, my sweet. A merry Christmas to you, darling.”

  Elinor curtseyed in a fond show of deference. “Merry Christmas to you as well, Papa.” Impulsively, she came over to him and pressed a kiss to his warm cheek.

  In response, he patted her cheek and gave her a wink, the smell of pipe tobacco wafting into her senses. “You are up deuced early, my pet. It’s long since you have been so eager for Christmas morning.”

  She blushed a little. “Not so, I always love Christmas, as you know.”

  He hummed in satisfaction. “Yes, I know. How is your head, dove? Better than last evening?”

  “Much,” she replied. “Perhaps excessive rest last evening left me eager to begin the day earlier than normal.”

  Her father nodded his agreement with the suggestion. “True enough, true enough.”

  The small talk was only heightening her anxieties, and she could not wait a moment longer. “Papa, may I ask you something?”

  “Of course, pet.”

  She nodded once. “Have any preparations been made for the departure of our guests? It’s just… I would hate for any of them to miss Christmas.”

  It was a weak excuse, but her father did not seem to notice. His expression soured and he nodded, causing her heart to sink. “Yes, unfortunately. Mr. Sterling is leaving momentarily. He’s just taken his leave of me, come to think. Graciousness itself, he was, but said he must make his way to his own family.” He shook his head, suddenly appearing almost grumpy. “Wouldn’t even stay for Christmas breakfast.”

  “He… he’s leaving?” Elinor gasped, clutching at her shawl in distress.

  Her father nodded moodily. “He said the roads were in much better condition, though I don’t know where he got that information, and said he felt he ought to make an earlier start.”

  No… No, he couldn’t…

  Elinor stood there for a moment, frozen in shock, and then, without a word to her father, she tore from the room at a sprint.

  All was prepared now, and he just had to mount the horse and ride away.

  It was safer to take the horse than attempt the roads with the carriage again. He had given Mr. Asheley the impression that the roads were much clearer, but, in all truth, he was just desperate to leave.

  Elinor wanted him to leave.

  How had a place that had filled him with so much hope so recently filled him with equal despair? If not more despair, given his current state.

  He rubbed the nose of the horse he was borrowing, clicking softly as the animal panted in the cold morning, its breath creating clouds of fog spiraling into the sky.

  “Easy, lad,” he murmured, smiling without emotion. “It’s only a quick ride. We’ll meet up with the coach as soon as the roads are clear enough, and then you’ll have a warm stable until the groom can fetch you back.”

  The horse snuffled in response, nudging against his hand.

  Hugh chuckled and scratched the horse fondly. “You’ll take me for quite the ride, yes? We might race a bit, if the path is clear enough.”

  There was no response to that, and Hugh patted the horse again before moving to adjust the saddle and see to the few belongings he was bringing with him.

  He paused, breathing slowly as he truly considered leaving Deilingh.

  Leaving Elinor.

  The change in her had broken him. If she could change her mind about him, so would everyone else. He would have no hope of true reconciliation, as everyone would suspect his claims to be feeble, and that his true nature was the one he had previously shown.

  His family would welcome him back, of that he was certain, but beyond them, he had no confidence. What if his letters of apology we
re refuted by those he had sent them to? What if his redemption was not complete, and he had more to atone for?

  He would make amends with his family, and then he would retreat again. Reduce himself into obscurity until he felt himself changed enough to venture out once more. Until he could be believed, in all sincerity.

  Until his change was genuine.

  The devil of it was, he’d thought it was.

  Until Elinor.

  The woman he loved did not believe him. Did not believe in him.

  Did not see the man he was now as different from the man he had been.

  What was the point of anything if that was true?

  Hugh shook his head and nodded at the groom who had come out to assist him. The man bowed in response, then turned back for the stables, rubbing his hands together in the cold.

  Alone entirely, Hugh looked back at Deilingh, the place he had begun to think of as perfectly ideal.

  It pained him to leave it. To leave the family. He hadn’t truly been part of a family in some time. This place, and her family, had restored him to it. But only for a time, and now that was over.

  He pulled his greatcoat more tightly around him, patted his scarf, and nodded to himself. He hoisted himself up into the saddle and tightened his heels against the horse.

  “Ready, my friend?” he murmured, leaning down to pat the horse’s neck as it began to shuffle in agitation beneath him. “All right, then.”

  “Wait!” a light voice called in the winter morning air.

  Hugh stilled, his breath catching. He exhaled, watched the fog of it curl away, and waited.

  “Wait!” the blessed voice called again.

  There was no mistaking it now, and he turned towards it.

  Elinor was hurrying down the path from the front of Deilingh towards him, deep red shawl wrapped around her, gray skirts flapping with the swift motions of her legs. Her long, fair hair bounced loosely around her shoulders, dancing to and fro with her haste.

  He had never seen anything more lovely in his entire life.

  “Careful!” he called out in warning, unable to help himself. “The path is icy.”

  She flashed a quick smile and eased her pace only slightly, her steps becoming more careful, but with no less energy.

  Hugh drank in the sight of her as she neared him, loving how bright her cheeks were, either from cold or exertion. Loving how her hair naturally curled only at the ends. Loving…

  Her. Just loving her.

  His heart ached, tightening within him when she finally reached him.

  “Hugh,” she panted, out of breath. She gripped the horse’s bridle as if by her power alone she could hold him there. “Thank you for waiting.”

  He could only nod for a moment. Swallowing, he managed to add, “Of course.”

  He wasn’t sure what he meant by that. Of course he would have waited? Of course he didn’t mind? Of course he would do anything she asked?

  Of course was the proper answer to all of the above, and to several more questions she had but to ask of him.

  If only she would.

  Elinor looked up at him, her eyes luminous in the morning light, amidst the white of the surrounding snow and frost-covered trees. “Oh, Hugh…”

  That tone… Heavens, he would have gathered her in his arms for a moment with that tone, if only he felt able to.

  “What?” he asked, almost pleading for her to get on with it. He had no notion of what to expect from this, and he feared the pain it might bring just as he feared the hope now pressing on him.

  “I’m sorry,” Elinor said, a slight catch in her voice. “I am so very sorry. What I said yesterday… It was not fair to say, and I didn’t mean it.”

  He stared at her, hardly breathing, barely blinking. “Which part of it?” he asked her, wary and hesitant.

  She seemed to be relieved at his response, but he couldn’t understand why. Perhaps it was the same reason he was beginning to feel it.

  They were speaking to each other, and that seemed its own kind of miracle.

  “Any of it, honestly.” She shook her head, the hand on the bridle moving to the horse while the other clutched at her shawl more tightly. “It was unforgivable. I fell victim to the trap you warned me about; I saw who you were instead of who you are. I assumed the worst based on the small part I heard and would not listen to the truth.”

  Her throat worked on a swallow, and he watched that delicate throat move, captivated.

  Elinor moved her hand along the horse a little, towards him. “I see the change in you, Hugh, and I know the difference.”

  A wondrous lightness began to fill him, and he smiled with the joy of it. But that joy was short-lived, as was the smile. Pain wedged itself in, and despair wrapped itself around him.

  “But is it enough, Elinor?” he asked as the agony within his chest began to tighten his throat. “Will it ever be enough?”

  Somehow, the woman he loved smiled with tenderness as well as an air of mischief.

  “I certainly hope so,” she quipped softly. “I’ve run all the way out here in the snow without a proper coat or boots to tell you that I love you and beg you to marry me.”

  All sensation and thought fled from him, and he could only stare at her as his heart, or what had once been his heart, began to pound in a fervent but unsteady rhythm.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You have my pardon,” she informed him, moving closer, “and my person, if you want it. I’m in love with you, and I want you to marry me.”

  He laughed a faint, breathless, nigh delirious laugh. “And you came out into the snow for this?”

  Her hand rested on his boot, and somehow every single one of his toes felt the warmth of her skin. “I couldn’t let you get away. You may be my only chance, and I know I will never love like this again. So…” She paused, swallowing again, “Will you?”

  Was she mad? The answer should have been as plain as the sun now rising above them. “Yes,” he insisted. “Yes, of course. I loved you the moment you threw your mistletoe at me, and I knew I couldn’t hope… Come up here.”

  He reached a hand down, and she took it, placing her foot atop his and letting him pull her onto the saddle with him. It was in no way comfortable, but he knew she wouldn’t care. He opened his greatcoat and wrapped it around them both, encircling her with his arms.

  Elinor touched his face, and one tear hovered on her cheek.

  He kissed that tear, then found his lips pressing against hers, with hers caressing his in return. Her arms slid around him, beneath the folds of his coat, her hands pressing into his shirt, as though they could reach beneath his skin as well. There was no haste to this kiss, no frantic energy, just a deep, fervent intent that stole every thought and breath.

  Nothing else in the world existed but them, and this kiss, this connection. There was no other sensation but her lips and her body against his, the feel of her hair against his fingers.

  There was no telling how long they kissed, all sense of time and space vanished with it. It faded into a series of softer, grazing kisses, nuzzling that warmed them both until the winter cold had no power whatsoever.

  “Merry Christmas, my love,” Hugh rasped against her lips, the words making the tender flesh hum between them.

  Elinor sighed and pressed her lips to his for a moment. “Merry Christmas,” she eventually replied. She pulled back and brushed his hair away from his face, his hat having vacated its position at some point. “Will you come back to Deilingh, now? I want to spend Christmas with my intended.”

  He chuckled and brushed his nose against hers. “I can agree to that,” he murmured, pulling her closer still. Then he hissed as one of her hands reached for his face again. “Ooh, darling, you’re freezing. You shouldn’t have sacrificed your toes for me.”

  She gave him a rather pointed look. “You weren’t supposed to leave this soon, so I was unprepared!”

  Hugh shook his head and reached for the reins around her, turning the hor
se back to the house. “Next Christmas, I am getting you a sturdy pair of boots to keep on hand.”

  Elinor huffed indignantly even as her arms tightened around him as they rode. “Why not this Christmas?” she demanded. “We are engaged, after all.”

  “Well, I wasn’t planning that far ahead when I was stranded…” he tried to explain.

  Elinor rolled her eyes dramatically, making him chuckle. “A likely excuse, Hugh Sterling. What in the world am I going to do with you?”

  “I have an idea about that, actually.” He pulled the horse to a stop and held up a finger, reaching into the pocket of his waistcoat.

  She watched and waited, a wry smile playing at her perfect lips.

  He pulled out the small bough of mistletoe and dangled it above their heads. “Look familiar?”

  Elinor giggled as she looked up at it, her arms slowly stroking along his back. “I do believe that is the exact mistletoe that came flying at your head not so long ago.”

  “Indeed it is, my love,” he replied, leaning closer. “I’ve been told the only way to break the curse of having mistletoe thrown at you is to spend a lovely amount of time obeying the custom beneath it.”

  “Really?” she purred as she bumped her nose against his. “What wise individual imparted that bit of wisdom?”

  Hugh quirked his brows at her, grinning. “Partlowe.”

  Elinor’s eyes widened, and then she burst out laughing, one of her hands coming up to slap his chest. “Stop that, no he did not!”

  “Letitia?” he suggested next.

  Her giggles overcame her, and she dropped her head to his shoulder. “No. No, absolutely not.”

  Hugh kissed her head, smiling still when she raised up to look at him once more. He stroked her cheek and her bottom lip. “Would you believe Uncle Dough?”

  Elinor sighed and nuzzled him. “Probably. But let’s not make a habit of mentioning Uncle Dough before you kiss me.”

  Hugh chuckled and briefly caught the lips of the woman he adored with his own. “I can agree to that, my love. Now, beneath this mistletoe, will you kiss me again?”

  She hummed a smile against his lips. “Of course, my love. Always.”

  Then they kissed again, and for quite some time, until any and all curses were gone.